


I’m Not Calling You a Liar

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim likes to take things slow. Sometimes that surprises Leonard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m Not Calling You a Liar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



> This is for [daunt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt)! I wrote it in response to the gorgeous [porny Kirk/McCoy art she put on tumblr a couple weeks back](http://daunt.tumblr.com/post/19795500013/canistakahari-totallyshameless-you-are-so). I posted the first few hundred words on tumblr, but I’m continuing here with the ACTUAL PORN because I feel weird about writing stuff on tumblr. SO. Click the link first to see the art! And then go tell Daunt she’s amazing!

As far as Jim is concerned, when it comes to sex, clothes are basically just an inconvenient but easily defeated series of obstacles. As long as they’re not impeding access to Leonard’s ass or dick or maybe his nipples, then honestly, Jim doesn’t care to what extent they’re removed.   
  
It means that situations like this happen more often than not, with Leonard pinned flat to the floor with his shirt around his neck and his pants pulled down around his thighs.   
  
“How romantic,” mutters Leonard.   
  
“What?” huffs Jim, a laugh in his voice.   
  
“Gonna have carpet-burn on my  _face_.”  
  
Apparently Jim’s solution to this is simply winding his fingers into Leonard’s hair and tugging his head up. The edging-on-desperate whine Leonard makes in response is whole-heartedly embarrassing.  
  
“You just gonna lie on top of me all night?” he demands, his cheeks burning. “‘Cause I could just lie in bed with stuff piled on top of me and achieve the same effect.”  
  
“Patience,” says Jim. He slips an arm down to hug Leonard around the chest, bringing their bodies flush in a snug grip. “You lack it.”  
  
“Your face,” snaps Leonard. “Dangerously close to my elbow.”  
  
Jim just hums, nudging at Leonard’s trapped thigh with his knee to spread his legs just enough to tuck his hips against the curve of Leonard’s ass. For a moment, he just presses close, hips rocking gently, the head of his flushed cock rubbing teasingly over Leonard’s slick hole. Leonard grunts at the rough friction, the sheer fucking  _tease_ of it; can’t help clenching helplessly at nothing as he grinds down into the floor.  
  
“If you don’t move, I will hypo your ass and dump you in the rec room naked,” Leonard forces out through gritted teeth.  
  
Jim’s smile curves against Leonard’s shoulder. “You are so bossy, you know that? Stay  _still_.”  
  
“ _I’m_  bossy?” protests Leonard, voice strained. The head of Jim’s cock is  _right there_  and the heat of it—the solid weight of his body, the sticky-slick warmth of his skin—is too  _much_.  
  
“You never follow through on your violent threats anyway,” Jim continues confidently, as if he hasn’t heard Leonard. “I have yet to be intentionally elbowed in the face or hypo’d for a reason other than a medical one.”  
  
Damn. Rumbled. The fanciful illusion that Jim can’t see right through him is often what gets Leonard through a hard day.  
  
“Maybe I’ll start. Adopt a new philosophy.” He pushes back hopefully, his breath catching as Jim’s cock sinks in just a fraction of an inch. It’s ridiculous. Jim hasn’t even fucked him yet and he feels like he’s already run a marathon, jelly-legged and shaking, his lungs burning. “Please,” he finally whispers. “Jim, please, I do want it, please please  _please_.”  
  
“That’s a good boy,” murmurs Jim, because he is a grade-A asshole that derives truly staggering amounts of glee from the act of passive-aggressively forcing Leonard to beg for Jim to give him what they both want.  
  
Leonard trembles, tense with anticipation, hyper-aware of Jim’s cock stretching him open in incremental measures. When Jim finally sinks into him, Leonard has to bite his lip hard to muffle his groan, but as soon as Jim bottoms out, he stops moving entirely.   
  
“Why are you doing this to me?” Leonard asks petulantly, when an extremely slow minute has ticked by. He squirms a little, can’t achieve a lick of leverage, and promptly gives up trying.   
  
“Because,” says Jim, brushing his lips against the shell of Leonard’s ear. “I like the way you feel.”  
  
Heat flushes abrupt and sudden to pool low in Leonard’s belly. His own erection is trapped beneath him, still caught in the confines of his half-pulled down pants. He is eventually going to come in them, which is an occurrence that should annoy him much more than it actually does.   
  
“I like the way you feel when you’re actually  _fucking_ me and not just resting your cock inside my body,” retorts Leonard thickly. “How can someone so impatient completely reverse polarity to become so damn slow? Do you experience time differently?  _I hate you_.” His voice breaks on the last syllable, instantly transforming him from ornery into needy.   
  
Jim answers with a soft kiss to his temple and an experimental nudge of his hips that sends sparks up Leonard’s spine. “Hush. I’m enjoying you.”  
  
That scheming motherfucker. Without any permission at all from his brain, Leonard melts, goes obligingly limp. Jim gives his hair one last gentle tug before letting go and Leonard drops his head onto his arms with a resigned sigh.  
  
“I want you,” mumbles Leonard, hiding his hot face behind his hands.   
  
“Then you’re in luck,” says Jim warmly. “Because I just so happen to be right here. Best seat in the house, too.”  
  
“You did not just say that,” says Leonard. “You did not. Not only do you persist in committing the crime of foreplay so slow I can’t even tell it’s happening, but then you go and imply I’m a chair? What? Who _are_ you?”  
  
“As if you aren’t completely aware of what I’m doing to you,” scoffs Jim.   
  
And he’s right.   
  
That’s the annoying part.   
  
One of  _several_ annoying parts.   
  
Leonard is undertaking the massive challenge of settling into the reality of his situation when Jim’s hips finally begin to move in leisurely thrusts, slow and deep and angled just right to drag heavily against Leonard’s prostate.   
  
It is simultaneously the most excruciating and exquisite variety of bone-deep pleasure Leonard has ever experienced.   
  
Jim’s thrusts completely lack the hard pressure required to do more than just make Leonard’s cock twitch in feeble sympathy and just when Leonard thinks he’s going to lose his mind and maybe break down in manly tears of frustrated exhaustion, Jim arches up, plants a hand down alongside Leonard’s head, and switches gears, engaging his hips in a rolling rhythm of fast, hard strokes.   
  
It’s so unexpected that Leonard’s cock swells at the sudden cascade of arousal, his mouth dropping open and his toes curling and his eyelids shuttering to half mast. He’s blindingly ready to come in the span of about six paltry seconds, flushed and sticky with sweat, his muscles tightening as banked pleasure is released in a burst of stoked nerve endings.   
  
“Oh, you  _asshole_ ,” cries Leonard, letting out a weak groan.  
  
“C’mon,” breathes Jim, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, give it to me, right now, see how ready you are? I’ve barely done a thing, and you’re right there on the edge with me, exactly when I want you to be.”  
  
It shouldn’t be a surprise anymore, the way Jim can play him just right, effortlessly manipulating his body until he’s a shuddering mess of tension.   
  
One perfect thrust, filling him up to completion, and then Leonard is muffling his orgasm against his crossed arms, bucking up into Jim’s hips as he comes neatly undone.   
  
Consciousness returns slowly, rational thought even more delayed.   
  
Leonard clenches weakly around Jim, relishes the ache of stretched muscle and Jim’s smothered little moan, and then comes to the stunned realisation that Jim hasn’t come.  
  
Jim is still fucking  _hard_. Aha. Golden opportunity.  
  
So Leonard waits, and when Jim slips out of him and leans over Leonard to feel around for a discarded piece of clothing to presumably assist in cleaning up, Leonard reaches out and pushes him over.  
  
“Hey!” cries Jim, hitting the floor with a comical  _thump_. Leonard takes advantage of his confused limbs to shove his legs apart, crouch down between them, and swallow down his cock. Then he hollows out his cheeks and  _sucks_ until Jim goes rigid, one flailing hand successfully burying into Leonard’s hair to hold on for dear life.   
  
“Aansdkkfjg,” says Jim eloquently. “Fffuuugnngh.”  
  
Leonard grunts in vague response, which just prompts Jim to lock his ankles around Leonard’s neck and arch his back like a gymnast.   
  
Just when Jim is vibrating with tell-tale pre-climax shivers, Leonard pulls back, letting Jim’s cock slip out of his mouth with a soft  _pop_.   
  
It’s almost worth it just for the expression of devastated shock on Jim’s face. Almost. Leonard is briefly tempted to leave things here, holding onto the mental picture of Jim’s face for the rest of his life, but Leonard isn’t so stubborn that he can’t (privately) admit he  _likes_ it when Jim teases, and that he really hasn’t got anything to complain about. The best sex is the kind that stays with him, leaving him with strung out muscles and tired joints, all his tension lovingly and patiently wrung out of his body until he can’t help but smile.   
  
So that’s what he does. Grins serenely as he shimmies his pants off and throws them across the room. Winks as he straddles Jim, tucking his knees to either side of Jim’s hips before reaching deliberately between his legs to grip Jim’s cock, and, once they’re aligned, sink down onto it with a deep sigh.  
  
It’s clearly not at all what Jim was expecting him to do, judging by the way he comes immediately with a low-pitched whimper of surprise.  
  
Leonard is absurdly proud of himself.  
  
“Well played,” says Jim faintly, when he’s regained his wits. He has the gall to give Leonard a double thumbs-up. “Nailed it!”  
  
“You,” says Leonard feelingly, “ _ruin my life_.”  
  
“In all the best ways,” says Jim. Then he throws an arm over his eyes and goes to sleep right there on the floor, just to prove that he’s even more of an asshole than Leonard already knew he was.   
  
"Lies," says Leonard quietly, mouth quirking up in a crooked smile.   
  
He'd be hard-pressed to ever admit Jim is totally right.


End file.
